Forever
by silverlodi
Summary: He could never forgive himself for what he had almost done to her, for what he had done to her. He should have never let her convince him, but now it was too late. All he could do now was watch her from a distance and wait for the end of eternity.


He knew he shoudn't be thinking like that. It wasn't right. He loved her, but still. He couldn't get that feeling out of his mind. The feeling as he sunk his teeth into her neck, piercing her skin. The smell of the blood as it flowed out of her body, and more than anything the taste. He just couldn't get it out of his mind. The blood had washed across his toungue. He let it rest there in a pool for one tantalizing moment, and then he took his first gulp. There was never a more wonderful sensation. He has become obsessed with that blood, taking in gulp after gulp. He couldn't stop, and he might have killed her if it wasn't for Carlisle. His father had grabbed him and hurled him away from her body. But even then, he came rushing back for more. He had forgotten everything, forgotten who the body of the girl lying uncouncious on the floor belonged to, what he had sworn he would do, but more importantly, what he had sworn he wouldn't do. And all that broke apart after one taste of the blood that he had spent more than a year trying to resist. The blood that kept her alive.

He had come rushing back for more, and once again his father had hurled him away. They soon descended into a whirlwind of fangs, his father trying to protect her, and he, all he could think about was the blood. The aftertaste still hung in his mouth, the blood covering his lips. His toungue swept it all into his mouth, savoring every second of it. And he wanted more. More than he could possibly get out of that limp body lying prone on the floor. And the only thing standing in his way was an old vampire who couldn't possibly begin to understand what he was feeling right now. Who couldn't possibly begin to understand this ecstasy.

He would have killed that man in front of him, and then he would have killed her. Even now the thought made him shudder, made him shake with fear. The thing that brought him back from his blood frenzy was nothing more than a simple moan of pain. And then he stopped. It struck him through the heart and he fell to the floor, unable to believe what he had done. The thought sickened him so much that he began to vomit all over the floor. The blood that he had wanted so much washed over the kitchen floor, staining it red- probably forever.

But none of that mattered anymore. It killed him to think about it, but in the now, in the present, it was a small insignificant detail. Because there was no more Bella. The Bella that he had loved was gone. No he had not killed her, but he had changed her. And to him, there was no real difference between the two. She had lain unconcious for about a day. He had sat down beside her, the tears washing down his face, praying that she would wake up, praying that she wasn't dead. But in the end, that fate might have been better. At least if she had died, he could have gone with her, could have joined her in that dark eternal abyss. But where she was now, there was no joining her.

She had awoken from her slumber with a jolt. The first sensation that reached her was that incredible insatiable thirst, and she could not resist, could not hold back. The human that was Bella disappeared, replaced by a fiend, a bloodthirsty creature that valued not human life. She had broken away from him- or rather he could not force himself to stop her. After what he'd done, and what he'd almost done, he could not lift a hand against her, could not bare to cause her anymore pain.

She had fled, the path she had taken clearly marked by the countless bodies left in her wake. Perhaps something triggered in her memory, for she had made her way to Forks, to that rainy, sunless town, to that house with the police cruiser parked outside. And she had not been able to resist, he had arrived to late to stop her. Though whether or not he would have been capable of doing such a thing, he did not know.

She was gone now. She had become one of them- a monster living only for the sensation of blood washing into her mouth, and she had forgotten all about him- about them. If she had died, he would have gladly followed. But she hadn't, and he would be forced to watch over his creation from a distance. Incapable of reaching through to her, unable to raise a hand against her, but forever forced to watch as she sank farther and farther into the recesses of darkness. And each time he saw her, it felt like something died within him, lost forever.


End file.
